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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949055">Leave My Door Open</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink'>surprisepink</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Bonding, Gen, Hades Video Game Canon Typical Temporary Death, post-first clear but pre-tenth clear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:01:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zagreus grows ever fonder of the surface and the wonders that it holds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Persephone &amp; Zagreus (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Leave My Door Open</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zagreus has yet to get used to how <i>cold</i> the surface is. He’s a warm thing by nature—as Meg likes to remind him whenever his feet brush against her in bed—and so the whole “perpetual winter” thing seems a bit unfair to him. Persephone’s cottage isn’t far from the underworld’s exit, but still, the walk through the snow sometimes seems unfathomably far, especially when he’s already half-dead.</p><p>It’s worth it, of course. He’s never doubted that it’s worth it.</p><p>The first time he met his mother, the sky was painted with pinks and blues. It was thanks to the rising of the sun, she said, when he finally got a chance to ask. That led to an explanation of what the sun was and why it rose, and by the time she got to the reasons for the colors, Zagreus was already getting woozy.</p><p>There are so many things on the surface that he doesn’t understand, and it feels like it will take an eternity to even learn about every plant in Mother’s garden, let alone anything outside of her small, cozy world. There are others he can ask about it, of course, but it won’t be half as interesting. Than and Meg can get to the surface whenever they want, but Zag is pretty sure they’ve barely noticed the sun. Achilles is a better option, but he misses being alive so dearly, and each time he speaks of his life his voice is tinged with sadness.</p><p>It is only Persephone who sees all things in nature with a pure, unbridled joy. And why shouldn’t she? She reins over the harvest and the hearth, and so everything she shows Zagreus on the surface is <i>hers</i>, and not simply because she grew it with her own two hands</p><p>But the surface is unkind to him, and so Zagreus can never know the full splendor of his mother’s domain. Gradually, he is coming to understand it in bits and pieces, and that will have to be enough.</p><p>Time is another thing that alludes his comprehension, mostly. Some stretches feel long, or short, but for the most part things just... are. The time he’s able to spend on the surface at once is a few hours, probably, but it just as well might be seconds, or days. It doesn’t seem too important when they technically have an eternity together, albiet one that’s broken into bits and pieces.</p><p>As best as he can, Zagreus prepares what he’ll say each time he manages to leave the underworld. It’s starting to become routine, fighting his way through chambers and passages and past giant rats, and so he has plenty of time to think. There are a thousand things to ask her, and he can only say so much at once. Sometimes, he manages to get it all out; other times, there’s just too much to ask. All of it is fine, so long as he’s able to learn Persephone—her voice, her smile, her story—a bit better each time he breaches the surface.</p><p>This time it’s dark, darker than usual. A familiar, comfortable darkness. He’s not sure if he’d rather ask why, or how, or if he ought to ignore the darkness entirely and ask more about Persephone’s past as he’d planned, or—</p><p>Tonight, though, she hushes him before he can begin to speak. “The night,” Persephone explains. putting her hand on his shoulder as though she already knew. “This darkness is the gift from your other mother. I always did enjoy it, on the rare occasions we were able to see it together.”</p><p>Somehow, she has answered all of his questions at once.</p><p>It feels so natural when she holds him close; her embrace is something that he’d longed for all his life without even realizing what was missing. Nyx does not hold her children, in the interest of fostering their independence. Hades, he is certain, has never hugged anyone in his life, but least of all Zagreus.</p><p>They stay like this in silence for a moment, his mother’s affection soothing the pain Zagreus has been trying to ignore as she clings to him, knowing he’ll slip away in due time. Too soon.</p><p>Then, from the corner of his eye, Zagreus sees something: the smallest light imaginable, coming and going in the blink of an eye. He thinks it might be a trick of the eye—and then, when it happens again, somewhere else, it must be some kind of attack.</p><p>He draws Stygius, calculating the time he has left on the surface to keep his mother safe, but Persephone stills his hand. “It’s not what you think, my son,” she says.</p><p> Zagreus is reassured somewhat, but he doesn’t drop his stance. “Then what? We have all matter of strange lights in the underworld, but most of them are attached to threats.”</p><p>“Not these. They are another of the surface’s wonderful things. Fireflies, they’re called.”</p><p>The lights are blinking in and out more quickly now, and in a greater number. The flies underground only hover around corpses and cause a nuisance. It’s hard to imagine that they have relatives that are capable of such beauty.</p><p>If only Zagreus could stay. Everything on the surface is nicer than in the underworld, isn’t it? Would there a single thing down there worth coming back to, if his friends weren’t there?</p><p>“What do they do?” he asks, instead of the more frustrating questions that are buzzing around in his mind.</p><p>“It’s a mating dance. They light up at night to find each other. That they’re putting on a show for us is just a coincidence. That’s what I love about fireflies: the way they show their love is beautiful to anyone who sees it.”</p><p>“You find beauty in everything, Mother. It would be nice if everyone were as optimistic as you.”</p><p>“I don’t think of it as optimism, really I don’t. It’s just the truth. I only wish I could share my happiness with you always.”</p><p>There’s really nothing to apologize for, but Zagreus feels compelled to nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” he says. “If only I could stay.”</p><p>He could have all of this—this home, this garden, this big and beautiful world—if not for the damned truth that he can’t survive here. Nausea rises in him, though whether it’s from the unpleasantness of the thought or just his body betraying him as it always does, Zagreus isn’t sure.</p><p>Mother guides him to the ground and has him sit beside her. A mother’s instinct, for her to know that he’s beginning to fade, or sheer luck? It doesn’t matter; Zagreus complies anyway.</p><p>“The fates are as cruel as they are kind,” Persephone says as Zagreus stretches his legs out in front of him. “I’ve had to accept that, again and again. So please, don’t be sorry. Not for this.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Zagreus replies, head spinning. The lights above him begin to blur together in an orgy of light. Mother leans her head on his shoulder, a comfortable and grounding weight against him.</p><p>But it’s not enough to make him stay. Nothing is.</p><p>He’s died  a hundred deaths, a half-dozen or so of them in this very garden. The sensation has become familiar by now: wooziness, then a faint pain throbbing through his body, increasing until he can barely stand, and then—</p><p>Pain.</p><p>It doesn’t hurt as much this time. Mother is talking again, something about how her gardening has been going, and though he can’t pick out the words it’s a nice distraction. She’s getting good at distracting him.</p><p>The Styx takes him gently tonight, fireflies swirling above him and his mother’s hand in his.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on my <a href="https://twitter.com/surprisepink_">fic twitter</a> or my <a href="https://twitter.com/seraphknights">regular twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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